Betrayal and Firewhiskey
by unspokenwords92
Summary: When Hermione fails at the one thing she thought to be a flawless escape...she loses everything. Except her enemies. When forced to live with her greatest enemy, how will the pair manage? Can teaching him how to live, help him to heal her? Rated M for future language/possible lemons
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: Welcome! Please let me say first and foremost that none of these characters belong to me. Unfortunately. That being said do keep in mind that I don't plan on putting this disclaimer on every chapter. Personally I feel that would further degrade my self esteem by reminding me every chapter that I, in fact, was not clever enough to come up with Harry Potter. Now. This is a dark fiction. Suicide attempts, suicide reference, self harm… the works. Do enjoy, and reviews (and constructive criticism) are more than welcome. **__**J**_

_**Hermione**_

Looking over the balcony I saw Malfoy's eyes reflected in the waves below. The push and pull of the icy cold water mirrored almost perfectly to the shift in thought that could be seen in the ever proud Draco Malfoy. Thoughts that sang to me to let go, to tell him everything, to finally be free. Eyes that followed my every move and taunted my every thought before they ever left my lips. Determined to prove what I already knew. He was better than me, and everyone knew it.

_**Let it go.**_

Waves that whispered an unbidden memory to my ears. Eyes that begged to know that last secret.

_**Tell us.**_

Clutching the stone railing for support I whispered "I remember the most beautiful sunset, but I was so unbelievably cold. It looked as if the sun dipped into the water, and rose in its depths. Colors splashed on every cloud in the most beautiful hues and gliding among its glamour was the most beautiful eagle I have ever seen. Proud. And free. I understood why the Americans chose that bird as their mascot. I turned to show her, but all I remember now is that smile. Brilliant and perfect. She always had perfect teeth." I felt a small helpless smile trying not to remember Ron's expression as I explained just what a dentist was. "Anyway, the doctors told me later that our car slid out on some ice and left us suspended on a bridge. She saw the truck coming but knew there was no way to save us. She didn't want my last moments to be filled with pain, so she showed me something better. Now when I think of her all I see is her smile, that sunset, and oh, so much pain. There have been many times where I wished I could fly away like that eagle.

_**Why not? **_The depths asked. _**Have you ever tried to fly? Or do you just assume you can't because your books tell you that you can't? Why not Hermione? Are you that afraid to fail? Who would miss poor Hermione Jean Granger anyway? Undeniably the brightest witch of your age and yet, still finds herself third best. Tell me about the Golden Trio Hermione. Tell me, when they write stories about the fabulous Harry James Potter and his adventures, what will history remember? Harry's courage. Ron's determination. Your brilliance. How much did you sacrifice just to keep them alive? How many times did you save them? Yet, in all the stories, how will you be remembered? By your uncontrollable hair, and your brilliance. Your rivalry with a bully…and your ability to pay attention in class. Why not, Hermione? What would be so bad if you did fail?**_

_**Be free.**_

"Free." I whispered back "why not?"

_**Be free.**_

Carefully climbing onto the ledge I looked out into that brilliant sunset and found myself thinking of mermaids. Not the ones Harry fought in fourth year, but the ones muggles used to read to their children about. Ariel, I think her name was. Boy, do I have answers for you. Closing my eyes I turned to face the castle one last time. Crossing my arms over my chest I whispered "No note. No goodbyes."

_**Be free.**_

The fall was so peaceful, so quiet. Finally free of all the weight that held me to the ground I smiled as the wind whipped through my not-so-bushy hair. I thought I heard a cry of alarm as the waves enveloped me in a welcoming embrace, but didn't care. It was too late anyway. The last thing I heard as I slipped deeper into darkness was the depths whispering:

_**Welcome Home**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Draco**_

An Auror from the ministry arrived at Hogwarts three days after the Mudblood jumped. Inspector Greenwick he called himself. Suicide was simply unheard of in the Wizarding world meaning it deserved every ounce of official attention. At first he tried pulling all the students one by one to question them about little Miss Perfect. However, the sheer number of students intimidated him into simply putting out a notice for anyone with information about the girl should come forward. Every ounce of official attention…. Poor fool just didn't know what he was doing. And how could he? Suicide just didn't happen here.

"Good to see you, your name is? How did you know Miss Granger? Have you noticed anything strange about her? Has anything strange happened recently? Has she been depressed? Stressed? Did she have any enemies?"

When Pansy went to see the fool, for her own amusement probably, she said from the moment he asked who you are he began scribbling on a worn clipboard almost as if his notes could write a novel from one question. The last one was my personal favorite. Regardless on how the previous questions were answered, the last one was always the same. Do you need three guesses on who that is?

"There is this one boy that's always pushing her around and teasing her."

"Really? And who would that be?"

Ready?

"Draco Malfoy."

Bingo. Go figure.

"Lucius Malfoy's boy?"

Just wait until my father hears about this.

"Yeah. You know… there was this one time he pushed her into the mud, and just laughed. He said if she was smart, she would know to stay where she belonged. I wouldn't be surprised if he pushed her off that balcony." 

Fantastic. And that is exactly how I find myself sitting in a wooden chair across from Inspector Greenwick himself. And his infuriating clipboard.

"Good evening Mr. Malfoy, how are you?"

A cocked eyebrow sent him scribbling away.

"So I'll be answering my own questions then?"

Smirk. Scribble.

"Fine then. If you don't want to talk, that's fine. However, you will spend an hour two times a week with me until you decide you are ready to talk. If all we do is stare at each other, that's fine. But my time will come out of your families pocket. Have a good day Mr. Malfoy."

Bugger.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Draco**_

Two days later my fathers eagle arrived during breakfast.

**Draco,**

**It has come to my attention that an Inspector Greenwick has attempted to extract information out of you. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't bother writing you, you already know what to do. However, since he is charging a ridiculous amount for foolish information about the girl, give him what he wants. Do not speak of anything other than the Mudblood.**

_** LM**_

How much was he charging?! All of this fuss for a mud blood? How many times had he thought of jumping off that bloody balcony himself? Always besting him in classes, tests, challenges, and now depression. Go figure. Reaching into my pocket for the hidden journal I always kept with me for such occasions I wrote;

"As you wish. DM"

Regardless of what general information I gave the Inspector about the girl, it wasn't enough. He wanted to talk about _feelings_. And not just any feelings…_my_ feelings. So here I sit, in this raggedy wooden chair, with the chubby inspector, and his _infuriating_ clipboard. For the sixth time in two bloody weeks.

"How are you today, Mr. Malfoy?"

The chess match continues.

"You are going to have to answer sometime, there are only so many ceiling tiles to count."

1,645 actually to be exact. However your library would probably interest the mud blood.

"Hmmmm. Have you heard from your father recently?"

A threat? My eyebrow raised seemingly of its own accord, causing an overly tired quill to send flecks of ink flying in every direction over what must seem like fascinating results over my reaction.

"Hmmmm."

More notes. I must remember to find a way to steal that clipboard of his. Surely Pansy would assist if I offered her services in return. How to step out of this stalemate though? _"Do not speak of anything other than the Mudblood." _What was there left to tell? I gave all information I could when we started this nonsense. I couldn't very well tell him that I went back up to that balcony can I? Or that I found Grangers ridiculously overloaded satchel caught on a spike? Nor could I mention that the satchel contained the Mudbloods journal, which carried her deepest darkest secrets. I couldn't tell him about the eagle my dearest father sent me reminding me to keep my secrets in check. No.

The only thing left to discuss, that I could possibly entrust with this man are my feelings, and that will never happen.

The inspectors limp quill paused as he stared at me for a moment. Obviously trying to formulate a new question. Maybe this time I'll throw him for a loop and blink this time.

"Are we having a staring match now, Inspector? I must warn you, I never lose."

Nothing. No response, no scribbling. He just put his hand up to his mouth and thought a moment. Gathering his courage he looked square into my eyes and asked: "Why did you save her, Draco? Why did you jump in after her?"

Now that…is a damn good question.

"Piss off."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N 3 reviews! I love it **__**J**__** Thank you so much guys! Also my Beta mentioned that my chapters are too short, almost a tease. So I'm trying to make them a bit longer, so here's to improvement! Enjoy! J**_

_**Hermione**_

Pain.

At first I thought this had to be the worst hangover I had ever experienced. However, somewhere in between the acidic rays of sunlight slamming into the backs of my eyes, and the jack hammer on crack construction zone that was my brain, a small voice kept telling me about flying. An eagle. Peace. I gathered my courage and lifted my eyelid a fraction of an eyelash to take in my surroundings. Only to shrink back into semi-darkness as the light seemed to increase. Nope definitely not happening. A sudden warmth appeared to my left and I shrunk back as small hands touched mine.

"All right there 'Mione? Too much light?" I groaned in response. "Oi! Madam Pomfery! She's awake!" Light feet shuffled towards my direction followed by what seemed to be a rather swift smack on the head to the speaker.

"Yes, I know, Miss Weasley. Don't shout. I imagine the poor girls head is killing her by now." I gave another groan.

It was several hours before the pain had dulled enough for me to open my eyes and look around. I was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. But why? And what in the name of Merlins suspenders did I DRINK last night? It was then that I noticed the massive pile of parchment sitting in an un occupied chair next to me. "Merlins Beard! How far behind am I?! I am never drinking again. Ever."

Ginny diverted his eyes to a stack of letters in the window sills lined with GET WELL cards.

"Ginny, how long have I BEEN here?'

Ginny once again refused to look at me.

"Ginny…what happened?"

It was that moment when a pudgy man slithered through the doors to the hospital wing, carrying a worn clipboard and a rather tattered quill. All in all, it seems the man has seen better days. After avoiding my questions Ginny chose this moment to speak. "Oh, bugger off, will you? Can't you see she just woke up?'

The man ignored the Golden Boy entirely.

"Ah Miss. Granger. I do pray that you are more cooperative than my last client."

"Client, sir?" immediately the quill started flying across the page desperately spraying ink everywhere.

"Oh, do forgive me. I forgot you don't know, do you? Hmmm."

"Sir? I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"No, of course you don't." I glanced over at Ginny for help, and she ran her fingers through her hair looking helpless.

"My name is Inspector Greenwick, and I'm here to find out why you jumped off the tallest point of Hogwarts two weeks ago."

Ginny stopped breathing. Madam Pomffery started busying herself with a potion. The Inspectors pen just kept scribbling away.

"Jumped?"

"You've been in a coma for two weeks now, you mean to tell me you don't remember anything?"

Time stopped as everything shut down and the memories came back, and I fell back in to blissfully silent darkness… _I failed._


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N Alright guys…this one is going to be a bit rough. Stick with me though. This chapter has to happen, and certain people with foul tempers will most likely be forgiven later on…but I haven't made up my mind yet. Enjoy and review! J**_

_**Hermione**_

It was weeks before they decided I could walk about unsupervised. Weeks before they trusted me not to jump again. Weeks before the whispers reached my ears. The walks through the corridors were always the same:

"…all the way from the astronomy tower? How could she possibly survive that?'

"Well I heard she didn't want to survive it. Imagine it though. If he hadn't jumped after her…"

"Did you know that he sat outside the Hospital Wing every night? He wouldn't let anyone near her. I don't think he's slept in weeks…"

"Him? Really? Not bloody likely. He certainly doesn't look like he's lost any sleep over her. Do you think she knows?"

"I doubt it. She wouldn't be handling things well if she did."

"She'd probably jump again."

"Shut up! She's coming!"

It was still a shock to hear that Harry had jumped to save me after what we have been through. But after all, the Golden Boy has to save the damsel in distress, right? Just like every fairy tale written in the muggle world, risking his life to save the Princess.

Seeing said raven haired child duck into an empty classroom, I paused to collect my thoughts. Weeks it took to build my courage to this point. To face him after all of this. How could he not be angry that I couldn't bother to say goodbye after…

Touching the Gryffindor emblem on my sleeve for strength I took a steadying breath.

"The past is behind us. Let's get this over with."

I quietly stepped in the room behind him and shut the door. Turning to face him I took an involuntary step back at the sight of his face.

"What do you want, Granger?"

The last of my courage dissipated at the sight of raw fury blazing through his molten green eyes.

"I-I…" Stammering, I desperately tried to think of something to say.

"What?! I _really_ don't have time for this."

"Thankyou."

"For what?" He replied irritably. The words had slipped out of my mouth so quickly and quietly I was honestly surprised that he even heard them.

"F-for s-saving me. I know you didn't have to do that."

Harry's mouth fell agape. Complete surprise frozen on his face. Worried I would lose what strength I had left, I hurried to finish before he could recover.

"A-and I heard you stayed outside my room to make sure-" I paused when I noticed his shoulders shaking. Was he crying? Maybe he didn't mean for me to know he jumped after me. I started to reach out a hand to him whine he threw back his head and let out the most sinister laugh I had ever heard.

"Harry?"

Wiping a tear from his eye, he fixed his cold gaze on me once again, freezing me in place with one arm half outstretched towards him.

"You really are a clueless bitch aren't you? You think that was me? After _everything_ you've done, you _really_ think I would have wasted my time to save _you_? The clueless wonder?" He reached out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"Boy, I bet you feel like a fool now. Did you really think I could after what happened? Even though I loved you once? That _is_ what you were counting on right? Past love and renowned forgiveness? Hell, Hermione, if I knew you were on that balcony I would have pushed you myself. You're a whore, and you're a filthy fucking mud blood. Just like Malfoy always said." Still holding my chin, he leaned back and spat in my face with as much vehemence as he could muster, and pushed me hard enough that my feet tripped over the leg of a desk causing me to land face down on the floor. From the corner of my eye I saw Harry kneel next to me and gently moved the hair away from my ear.

"Until you are ready to admit that Ron being gone is your fault, don't dare to waste my time again." He stood and landed a swift kick to my ribs to drive his point home. "Take a good look at where you are, Granger, and know that you are finally where you belong."

Expecting a kick or two more for my trouble I remained tense and prepared until his footsteps receded into the corridor and the door slammed behind him. Reeling from what just happened, I wept into the grimy floor. Grateful that it, at least, would always be there when I needed it.

_**Draco**_

_Dear,_

_I don't think Harry has quite developed my feelings for him yet. He really has grown over the years hasn't he? When did his shoulders get quite so broad? And what am I supposed to tell Ron? It's common knowledge that he's fancied me since first year, but there's nothing in my books that will tell me how to reject him, and still keep him as my friend. Now that I think of it, our shared enemy has grown quite a bit as well, hasn't he? I often wonder what his story is. However, someone of my status should never be pondering over the life of a pureblood, should she? Still, I do notice he looks remarkably more handsome than last year. At least he's grown out of that ridiculous bowl cut from first year. I don't know… maybe if he wasn't such a prick, and in Slytherin, and hated us so much, and well…wasn't Malfoy, maybe things could have been different._

Quietly tucking Grangers Journal back into the inside pocket of my robes, I glanced down at the weeping figure not five feet from me. It was apparent that they didn't know I was in here, or half of that conversation wouldn't have been said. Especially the part where the Golden Boy said I was right about something.

I smirked wondering if I could ever get that in writing. Without realizing what I was doing I knelt down beside her and pulled her into my chest attempting to calm the wracking sobs. Causing my whole body to tremble in response.

"I'm sorry" She sobbed into my chest. Over and over until I found my cheek resting on the top of her raspberry scented head, my fingers running through her hair, and my body rocking her back and forth like I was comforting a small child. My arms wrapped around her tighter as if to convey some hidden message until they trembled with the effort.

Until my voice whispered back "Don't be."

What the _bloody_ hell am I doing? Every fiber of my being screamed at me for touching her. For even thinking of touching her. Screaming for letting her get her filthy snot bubbles and tears get all over my brand new shirt. Time slowed and I still didn't get up, still didn't let go of her-even after I knew she had fallen asleep in my arms.

And I still have no fucking clue why.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hermione**_

I woke the next morning to glorious sunlight warming my skin through the silk curtains of my four poster bed. I let out a blissful sigh, reluctant to open my eyes after the first decent sleep I've had in who knows how long. What a dream though. Confronting Harry and…And unknown arms. Refusing to open my eyes, I reveled in the simple, temporary peace. From my half-extended fingertips, across my bare forearms, and caressing my face, as a tendril of my hair twitched across my cheek in an imaginary breeze.

Letting out a content sigh, I found myself smiling. For once in such a long time, I wasn't tired. I wasn't burning with guilt, wasn't frozen with fear. I knew the only thing keeping the reality of life at bay, was this temporary peace, and opening my eyes would shatter it into millions of shards of mirrored glass. Throwing my arm over my eyes in a desperate attempt to block reality, the motion caused a new smell to drift towards my nose.

I drew a deep breath trying to place it. Definitely a masculine smell. Cologne? Musk, spice, and…peppermint? My memory provided me with the brief pressure of warm, unfamiliar arms that held me, but why? Naturally my fractured mind offered no assistance. I took a deep breath trying to imagine that smell one more time when someone ripped back the curtains of my bed unleashing the full wrath of sunlight directly into my unsuspecting eyes. And just like that, Reality slammed into my eyelids in the form of a Red Headed demon.

"Hermione Jean Granger. Open your damn eyes." It snarled.

"What in the _bloody _hell?! Ginny?' She stood next to my bed still in her pajamas and hair sticking up on one side.

The sun, gentle and loving only moments ago, blinded me with its mocking cruelty.

"What?!" I growled at my once best friend. Her eyes perfectly mirroring her brothers, Ginny glared at me with obvious disappointment.

"Who is he?" She demanded with her hands on her hips.

"Who is who?" I rubbed my hands over my eyes desperate to escape from the fragments of last nights nightmares flooding over my unguarded walls.

"The guy? You know the one that carried you in here last night?"

The accusation distracted me from the memory of Harry driving a rather decent kick to my ribcage. Dumbfounded my mouth fell open. "What?"

Obviously irritated at my lack of willingness to share fresh gossip, she flipped her hair back with an impatient sigh.

"Look, Hermione, I don't care that you're having sex. Hell, judging by the look you just had on your face a minute ago, you bloody well needed it. But letting him beat you? I won't stand for it. Give me his name so I can kick his scrawny lily white ass all the way-"

"Beat me? Ginny. No one is beating me." What in the world had gotten into this girl?

Her nostrils flared in obvious irritation.

"Hermione, if you are going to attempt to lie to me. I suggest you do a better job at it. Or at least attempt, would you?"

Throwing me a shirt out of my wardrobe, she turned and stomped out. I stared at her retreating form as I walked towards the mirror in the corner. Muttering a prayer for the girls sanity, I turned to face my reflection.

"What the…" I don't know how long I stood there, shirt in hand. Staring at the mirror. At myself. I had a bruise on my forehead, a black eye, and judging by clearly visible shoeprint…someone had very obviously kicked the shit out of my ribs. Was it not a dream then? Harry did this? Then who brought me here? Ginny very distinctly knew it was male…but who would care that much?

A light breeze lifted several strands of hair off my shoulders and with it brought back the small, almost imagined, scent of peppermint.

_**Draco**_

_Dear,_

_I don't know who I'm writing to anymore. Jenna, my therapist, told me that writing down my thoughts would help me keep control. However, it sounds too immature to write "Dear Journal" It feels wrong to write to Mom or even…Ron. So for now, Journal, you remain anonymous until the day I find a proper name to be respondent for my thoughts. I suppose I should start by telling you a small secret. I'm an orphan. I never knew who my parents were, other than a brief image of my mother's smile from when I was five. The last time I saw her. It's a little know fact that I was adopted shortly after by a pair of dentists. Do you know how boring it is to live with a dentist? "Hi Honey, How's your day?" "Fascinating sweetheart! I got to do a root canal today!" "Really? I got to pull three teeth!" "I hate you. You're job is so much cooler." Yeah. Love it. So when I got my letter to Hogwarts, and it seemed life would finally start getting more interesting…who would have thought that I would meet none other than Harry Potter? Who would have thought that I would fall in love with his best friend? And who would have thought…that my greatest enemy. Would be a sadly misunderstood boy who would become to be the greatest competition I've faced in years?_

_Anyway, my candle is dying for the night, and I still have yet to master the art of putting a flame inside a jar. Magic is trickier than it would seem._

_Hermione._

I shouldn't be paying this much attention to her. I shouldn't be noticing that she glamoured her bruises. I shouldn't notice that you could still see them if you knew where to look. I shouldn't notice that her eyes aren't puffy, and it actually looks like she got a decent nights sleep. I shouldn't be relieved. So when Pansy Parkinson slid in to my lap and kissed me on my cheek, I jumped in surprise. I was too busy watching the flow of her hair, the ever so slight scent of raspberries that still clung to my nostrils.

"Draco darling, aren't you hungry diddykins? You need to eat something, you seem to be wasting away. What are you staring at? Oh. Her. Don't worry dear, you'll beat her this year, I'm sure of it. Did you hear she jumped off the astronomy tower? You know…If we pushed her, no one would suspect a thing. What do you think…"

I tuned her out as blood rolled in my ears. Why was I so angry? I hated the filthy little Mudblood. That's the only thing I really knew with any certainty. I hated her. I had always hated her. I watched her pushing her food around her plate, pretending to eat as I tried desperately to come up with a single reason of why exactly I hated her. I was so frantically searching my thoughts that I forgot to tune out Pansy's ramblings.

"Your mother thinks it's a fabulous idea, don't you? Oh, a wedding in December. Can you picture it Draco? Silver and Green on every decoration…"

I choked on my porridge. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Taken aback she laughed as if I was joking. "Our wedding silly. Haven't you been listening? I told you that our mothers got together and planned everything. Isn't it perfect?"

Two tables away I pretended to be focused on the plate in front of me instead of the perfect couple smiling at the Slytherin table. Pansy really did seem a good match for him. I wonder what she said? I watched blood slowly rise from the base of Malfoys neck to the crown of his forehead. A look of pure rage. I had seen that look before, knew Pansy was in trouble, but continued to push food around my plate. _Not my business_ I reminded myself. Not that it would have mattered anyway. At that moment Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, slowly stood from his seat, placed his wand at Pansy's throat, and hissed:

"_I'd rather marry the Mudblood!"_

I'm not sure if he intended the entire Great Hall to hear him…but every head turned at his comment. His head snapped around his surroundings and stormed out, leaving his intended broken, and sobbing into his now vacant seat.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Hermione**_

I woke the next morning trembling, and drenched in sweat. You would think that after dealing with these bloody nightmares, that I would be used to them by now. At the very least, they shouldn't affect me like this. I rolled out of bed and started my usual morning routine, desperately trying to shake the haunted look of Ron's eyes out of my memory.

"Hermione, if you keep brushing your hair like that, you are likely to tear it out." Ginny sneered from the other side of the room. Bloody hell. This is going to be a fantastic day isn't it? Huffing an impatient sigh I grabbed my clothes and stepped into the bathroom grateful to close the door on those fiery eyes that looked so much like her brothers. I muttered a silencing spell at the door and turned to face the mirror. I had to calm down.

I took a deep breath trying to force the images out of my head. Desperately tried to stop my arms from trembling. But they came anyway. Just like every day. Like a movie on fast forward, I only saw glimpses of a true nightmare…but it was more than enough. Ron, blood, the gun, Mackenzie, the note… Faster and faster they flipped behind my eyelids until I found myself sitting on the floor weeping into my shredded fingers. I broke the mirror? Shards of mirrored glass were shattered all over the bathroom. It wasn't until I grabbed my wand did I notice the twenty seven deliberate horizontal lines that trailed up my forearms. Light headed, I collapsed back on the floor. Trying to catch my breath I watched my so-called dirty blood drip to the floor. But what a feeling. My head spun, but the visions…the pain, seemed to flow out of my arms at the same time.

"Hermione. Come on! I gotta pee!" Ginny pounded on the door. With a wave of my wand all evidence of my episode vanished, and my arms reluctantly healed over. Glancing at my arms one last time, I smiled. I had found my solution.

_**Draco**_

I really needed to calm down. Mother really wasn't going to force me to marry _Pansy _was she? I understand the politics. I understand money. But _Pansy_?! No bloody way. Not if I had anything to say about it. I gripped my wand harshly willing some stupid first year to walk past me. I could use a good hex. Watch some stupid fat kid go running down the hall with a curly pig tail. _That _would make my day. What would really do the trick would be an honest battle. I needed someone that would actually be worthwhile to duel. Someone who would actually stand a chance. Someone to take the focus off of Pansy Parkinson. But who? Who was mastered enough at spells, foolish enough to actually duel me, and skilled enough to last? Would have to be someone truly brilliant… I froze in my endless pacing as the answer drew a sneer to my lips. As if they knew the way already, my feet took off to find the Mudblood.

_**Hermione**_

No. Not now. I can't handle this right now. I looked up from my pumpkin juice as the flashes started. I watched my cup tremble as my hand shook Breathe just breathe. You can do this. I took a shaky breath as a pair of furious eyes slid into my view. Not Ron's. I kicked myself.

"You okay Hermione? You look a little pale." Ginny actually sounded genuinely concerned, it almost sounded like she actually cared. I gave her a polite nod in return, feigning a full mouth. Ginny smirked as if remembering that Ron never had that certain courtesy of at least keeping his mouth closed while chewing. "Are you ever going to tell me who you're seeing? Or who you _were_ seeing?" I shook my head.

"Fine. I give up. I was thinking about asking Harry to come to Hogsemeade this weekend, what do you think…?" Ginnys voice trailed off as the flashes started clawing their way over my mental wall. Trembling I slowly stood from the table and fled the dining room, ignoring my once-best friends irritated glare.

I made it to the second floor corridor before my legs gave out and I sunk to the floor, willing myself to breathe, yearning for something sharp.

Ron. Blood. Mackenzie…

_**Draco**_

I found her on the second floor. Sitting in the dirt like she had a headache or something.

"_Mudblood"_ I snarled. She looked up at that at least.

"Oh piss off Malfoy. I'm so not in the mood right now." I smirked. Like she had any choice in the matter at the moment. I _needed_ this.

"In the mood for what, Mudblood? Casual conversation with your superiors?" I could see the fire light in her eyes. Here it came.

"Shove off." And she walked away. My mouth fell open. She walked away? What? I didn't understand. She was never this difficult to provoke. In an act of sheer desperation my mouth fell open and my brain turned off.

"What ever happened to dear old Weaselbee, Mudblood? Pansy told me you were sleeping with him. Someone else told me that he got in some kind of muggle accident. Someone else told me that you might have had a hand in it. Got tired of him, did you?"

She froze. Shoulders slightly trembling she took several deep breaths before turning around to face me. In the coldest tone I have ever heard, venom dripping off every word, she whispered "Maybe your contacts wouldn't be so loyal to you if they knew that you were just a sadly misunderstood _boy_, desperately crying for attention, that's been abused for most of his life. Desperately trying to save face for the family, because there's nothing else for dear old mum is there?"

My vision turned red as my fist connected with her jaw.

_**Hermione**_

My vision flashed white as Draco's blow landed. Along with a very distinct scent of peppermint. My neck snapped backwards with the momentum of the blow, as something inside me broke and I lunged at that pale white throat.

I couldn't tell you who was winning, who was losing, or why neither of us thought to grab wands…but it seemed like hours before both of our heads snapped up at the sound of a very small _meow_. There at the base of the stairs stood filch and Ms. Norris. I had no idea how long he had been standing there, but I knew as soon as that smile cracked his lips, he had been there long enough.

"My, my" he purred "look what we have here, Mrs. Norris." He lovingly stroked the mange-ridden cat with gleaming eyes. "And here I was just thinking that this was going to be _such_ an uneventful night."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Draco**_

I peeled open my eyes to look around the lightning room. I glanced towards an unfamiliar window trying to gauge the time. I had beaten the sun again, but how early this time? Something in the window drew my attention, a small black box with buttons on the top. Turning it towards me neon red lights read 5:15am. Well. Answers that question. Rubbing my hands over my face, I attempted to piece together the last twelve hours. Due to the blooming pounding behind my eyes, I had obviously been drinking, but where? And how did I end up here? Father often had to send house elves after me, but never once did I wake up somewhere new.

Slowly sitting up, not wanting to encourage the hammering in my head to get worse, I examined my surroundings. Plain white walls, wooden floors, a dresser, a closet, a bed, and a nightstand. Sitting on the nightstand was a letter. _Draco_ I would recognize that spindly handwriting anywhere. _Dumbledore_ had something to do with this. Merlin, and what must father be thinking right now?

I turned the letter over in my hands and placed my thumb under the flap to break the seal-

_"No! No, this isn't possible!" _Granger was here? Must be, I'd recognize that screeching anywhere. _"Damn you to Hell, you BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?! HERE?! OF ALL PLACES?! SO HELP ME GOD WHEN I GET BACK TO THAT BLOODY SCHOOL!" _ I should probably get up and shut her up. I glanced at the ceiling above me where various thuds and shatters vibrated the walls around me. I sighed in defeat and rolled out of the bed. I should check on her. Her screeching was becoming inaudible. I placed my hand on the doorknob and jumped back with a howl.

"HE'S HERE TOO?! HOW _DARE _YOU, YOU BLOODY ENGLISH BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!"

So. This is interesting. I glanced down at my reddening palm. It wasn't a bad burn, nothing a simple charm wouldn't fix. But where was my wand? I glanced back at the letter as Dumbledore's voice drifted to my ears. _You will do it together, and without magic. Keep her alive, Draco. _ How in the hell was I supposed to do that?

_**Hermione**_

I glared at the unmoving door wincing as blisters slowly developed across my palm. What was he playing at? Trapping me _here_ of all places with Draco _fucking_ Malfoy of all people?! With no wand, no owl to contact anyone (not that I had anyone _to_ write, but that is far beyond the point), and apparently no way out of this stupid room?! I would kill him for this. I turned and glared at the indestructible letter that refused to tear, to the furniture. So familiar, and exactly the same as I had last seen them, had been charmed to repair to perfect condition anytime they were damaged. Frustrated I threw myself back onto my bed, ignoring the familiar scents that tugged at my heart, and howled into my pillow. This was so not fair. I heard a male yelp from beneath me, and knew that Draco was still attempting to escape his room. Poor kid. I should probably tell him that it's hopeless. Like he would listen. I faced the achingly familiar window, to glance at the never changing mountains. Once a symbol of hope...now seemed to be an enclosing prison. Lost in thought, and memories, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a soft knock thudded against my door.

"How in the _bloody Hell_ did you get out of that room?!" I demanded. Surely, Dumbledore would not have let _him_ have his wand.

"Read the letter of course."

_Draco,_

_Assuredly you have learned by now that the door will not open without reading this letter first. Welcome to Creede Colorado. A very small town, but charming if given the chance. A word of warning, this town holds great significance to Miss Granger. Not entirely happy memories at that. Your responsibility is to keep her safe, well, and alive. Teach her the meaning of life again. As for you, keep your mind open. Learn. Remember that no knowledge learned is ever wasted. Also, if you glance at your left wrist, you will find a rune. Commonly known in the muggle world as a tattoo, this holds it's own powers. The main one you need to know of, is that it physically prevents you from causing serious harm to Miss Granger. She has one as well._

_Best of Luck,_

_Albus Dumbledore._

_**Draco**_

I watched the door slowly creak open after several frustrated growls. _She looks like hell. _ I wonder if she got much sleep. With a sigh I stepped aside to let her through the narrow hallway, unprepared for her lunge. Eyes full of rage she launched herself at my throat. Almost as if hitting an invisible barrier, her fingers just barely grazed my throat. I watched the veins pop on her forehead, and the muscles in her arms bulge in her desperation. So, it was true, she couldn't hurt me. The pungent smell of burning flesh made me look down at her wrist. A small, simple, black mark, shaped like the letter Y with a vertical line through the middle, glowed an angry red color and let off tiny fumes of smoke. As she pushed harder, it glowed brighter.

Screaming, she dropped her hands, and pushed past me down the stairs. Obviously hand made, and very well might I add, were made out of stripped aspen trees. Known for their graffiti bark, black eyes seemed to follow me as I walked down the carefully polished stairs. The living room was just as beautiful, but she couldn't know that. She sat on the plush blue couch with her head in her hands, massaging her temples. So, she wasn't as accustomed to hangovers as I was.

"Would you like some coffee, Granger?" Her glare was more response than I needed, but I wandered until I found the kitchen. On the counter sat this black, thing. It smelled like coffee, so somehow it must _make _coffee...but how? A black cord attached it to the wall. I picked the _thing _up off the counter, and flipped it over hoping for instructions, and jumped back as I was promptly doused in water. Frustrated I threw the _thing_ a crossed the room and smirked in satisfaction as it shattered into thousands of pieces.

"That won't do any good" Granger laughed from the living room. She _laughed_ at me. I folded my arms in defense and my jaw dropped in astonishment as the _thing_ flew off the floor and magically repaired and returned to it's original place. I threw it twice more growling in disbelief as it repaired every time. Not to mention refilled with water. Thoroughly soaked, and now pissed, I stalked back to the room I woke up in.

_To hell with this. Last time I ever try to do something nice for her._


	9. Chapter 9

**Draco**

I opened my eyes to the mouthwatering smell of rich black coffee drifting beneath the door to my borrowed room. I was so lost in the wonder of what had to be Folger's coffee, that I almost missed the tantalizing sound of sizzling meat. Cautiously I tiptoed toward what could be nothing more than a figment of my imagination to find _her_ cooking.

She stood at the stove in a blue long sleeved shirt, fuzzy mountain dew pajama bottoms, and checkered flats. Never before had she looked quite so... _Muggle_. Thin, slender, fingers worked their way expertly around scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and French toast. I felt something tickle my chin and reached up to wipe drool from my mouth. Merlin's beard, I needed to pull myself together. Drooling, seriously? Draco Malfoy does _not_ drool. What would Father say? However, how long had it been since there had been real food to eat? Four, maybe five, days?

After staring at the muggle contraptions for three hours, I had resigned to the magically refilling fruit bowl for food. But who in their right minds would have such an unhealthy relationship with apples? Bananas I can understand, but Dumbledore seems to be _obsessed_ with apples.

I hadn't realized that I was still staring at her until I took in the gentle swerve of her hips as she unconsciously danced to a tune I couldn't hear, to the graceful curve of an incredibly long neck. She really hadn't fared too horribly, growing up, had she? I shook my head and furiously swiped another apple. This mountain air was really starting to affect my thought process. I _really_ needed to get it together.

**Hermione**

I could feel a small burn flaming in the space between my shoulder blades where Malfoys eyes had landed. I knew he was watching me, but I couldn't fathom _why. _Maybe he just needed to watch someone cook? I had watched his barely concealed muscles slowly disappear into clothes that once fit him, now seemed to hang off his frame. If I were actually in the mood for a healthy spar, I would suggest that he take his Weasley look to his father for an opinion.

Thinking of the Weasely's brought an unwelcome onslaught of memories slamming against the ever present wall of defense, that lined my heart and deeper thoughts. I was really going to give it my best not to think anymore about him today. I redoubled my efforts on cooking. Scrambled eggs weren't really that complicated to make, but cooking helped take my mind off of forbidden thoughts. Not to mention Malfoys pride would rather let him starve than to ask for help. An unspoken compromise.

I heard the fruit bowl clatter as Malfoy grabbed yet another apple, forcing myself to hide a smirk as the more creative side of my brain wondered how many stories could be written about Malfoy and his secret love affair with apples.

The good thing about not having a wand, was the muggle process of healing was so much more satisfying than a healing spell. Unfortunately the lack of glamours, meant that if a highly attuned Malfoy paid any attention to me, the scars would be painfully obvious. Sweeping the food off the stove and onto plates, I found myself staring out the kitchen window at the unforgiving mountains beyond.

Bristol Head Mountain used to represent a symbol of hope and protection anytime I visited this house. The mountain itself appeared to be a simple right angle on the rim of several mountains, but could be seen for miles before ever reaching the city. Through blizzards, tornadoes, and other natural chaos, those mountains had stood proud and ever watchful over the simple town. Now they seemed to mock me. _Look at you,_ they whispered _forever pining about how miserable your life is. Have you not considered what misery we've endured? And yet we stand. You on the other hand, crumble after a couple tragedies. How pitiful._

"Hey!" Malfoy's sharp rapport of annoyance broke through my reverie. "No crying on the french toast! It actually doesn't look half bad, just don't get any of your dirty snot bubbles on it before I get a chance to eat any. The bloody hell is wrong with you?" He snatched the plate of toast out from under my nose, with a strong look of disgust, before any of the offending tears could land on the plate.

With a sigh of defeat I turned away from his half-hearted insults and headed up the stairs.

**Draco**

I rolled over and looked at the clock in the windowsill. 214 AM would sleep ever really be a possibility? Silently padding towards the kitchen, I noticed her cooking still sitting on the counter untouched. _I guess I'm not the only one not eating. _

A sharp sound caught my attention. I stood frozen waiting to see if the sound would happen again. Vaguely I thought back to the deer that he saw staring into his window. Maybe they made that kind of sound? From the general direction of Grangers room came the sound again, somewhere between a scream and a moan. Nightmares. I'd recognize them anywhere.

I found myself, unbidden, in front of her bedroom door listening in agonized silence as the screams rose. She was calling out for him, for Weasely. Her journals never included what exactly happened to Ron, and somehow they didn't quite make the trip with me. I tiptoed across her cushiony carpet to the side of her bed. Would she thank me for waking her up?

I reached out to touch her hand and froze. Lining her arms from wrist to shoulders were dozens upon dozens of scars and fresh cuts. Next to her pillow were the remains of a dismantled razor. She sat bolt upright and desperately grasped the front of my shirt. "Please," she pleaded "you have to believe me. I didn't mean for this to happen..." I watched her drift back into a fitful doze and wondered at who she thought I was, Ron or Potter? Regardless I slumped to the floor in the hallway next to her door as the crushing weight of what Dumbledore expected me to do nearly knocked me off my feet.


End file.
